The academy grounds buzzed with excitement as the announcement rang through the air. A competition to determine the strongest students would be held in three months. This event would decide the rankings within the school, and those who placed highly would gain influence, prestige, and access to the best resources. To Lysander, however, the announcement only solidified his position as an outsider.
As whispers of the competition spread like wildfire, Lysander found himself the target of ridicule. His classmates, eager to show off their burgeoning skills, turned to mockery as soon as they saw him.
"Why even bother showing up, Lysander?" one of the stronger students jeered. "With your strength, you'll just embarrass yourself."
"You should just stay in the shadows where you belong, weakling," another added, laughter filling the air.
But before the jeers could grow louder, a voice cut through the noise. Gwen, a bright student with a reputation for being fierce and kind-hearted, stood tall in front of the group. Her voice was calm, but there was a quiet strength behind it.
"Enough," she said firmly, locking eyes with the bullies. "Show some respect. Lysander has as much right to participate as any of you."
The bullies fell silent, unable to respond. Gwen's aura alone was enough to silence them. She turned to Lysander, her gaze softening.
"How are you doing, Lysander?" she asked gently.
Lysander nodded, grateful for the intervention. "Thanks, Gwen," he said quietly, the warmth of her support making him feel like he wasn't entirely alone.
Later that day, Lysander made his way to the family's old, dusty estate. The once-proud mansion now stood as a hollow shell of its former self, a reflection of his family's fall from grace. Inside, Lysander found Uncle Hao, the old servant who had remained loyal to the Vaughn family long after their fortunes had dwindled.
Uncle Hao was an elderly man, his back hunched with age, but his sharp eyes still held the wisdom of decades. "What brings you here, young master?" he asked, his voice gentle but filled with a quiet strength.
Lysander's heart tightened. The estate, once a symbol of power, was now a burden, and he was the one who had to bear it. "Uncle Hao, do you have any loose change? Just a few Spark Lumin will do. I need something to help me train."
Uncle Hao's face softened with understanding. He reached into his pocket and handed Lysander a small pouch of coins. "You are the family head, Lysander. You shouldn't need to ask."
Lysander paused, the weight of the words hitting him hard. His pride as the family head had crumbled long ago. Now, all he had were these meager coins—five Spark Lumin—far too little to make any significant difference.
With a sigh, he promised, "I'll get it all back, Uncle Hao. I'll rebuild our family's name and take revenge on those who ruined us."
Determined to improve himself, Lysander left the estate with the Spark Lumin in hand. He made his way to a small shop that sold martial scrolls—basic training tools for the aspiring warrior. There, he bought a low-tier scroll, a simple martial move meant to boost his strength. The scroll was inexpensive, costing him all five Spark Lumin.
But when Lysander opened the scroll, he saw it had been ripped in half, the contents incomplete. His heart sank.
Just as he was about to give in to despair, a voice spoke softly within his mind. It wasn't his own thoughts. It was something else—something ancient.
"You do not need to despair," the voice said, echoing with power. "The Heavenly All Seeing Eye knows the full text. I will impart it to you."
Lysander froze, confused but intrigued. Before he could react, the words of the scroll filled his mind—complete and whole. The knowledge rushed through him, and as the final passage settled into place, he felt a surge of power. His left eye, once clouded and blind, seemed to hum with energy.
"From this moment on, your path to power begins," the voice continued. "You will grow stronger—faster than you ever imagined."
Lysander's heart raced. His body tingled with newfound strength, and as he looked into the reflection of the well nearby, he saw the faint glow of his left eye. It was whole once more. No longer a symbol of his weakness, it had become the key to his future.
"I will rebuild," Lysander whispered to himself, the fire of determination burning bright. "I will show them all."